


I Can Hear You

by AmberKellyDarrow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel has half a clue of what he's doing, Convenient Motel With Only Single Bed Rooms, Cute Ending, Don't try to figured out when this is happening, Drinking, F/M, Happy Ending, Hickies, Mentions of past Dean/Reader, Poker, Strip Poker, Trust Issues, Vaginal Sex, just a bit though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 16:24:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13368576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberKellyDarrow/pseuds/AmberKellyDarrow
Summary: You've fostered a crush since you met him. You never quite realized the Castiel could hear the filthy things running through your mind about him. After a game of poorly played strip poker, he finally decides to confront you about them.





	I Can Hear You

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning I'm grotesquely new to this fandom, any help with characterization is much appreciated. I hope you enjoy the cluster this turned out to be.

It started with cards. Normal cards, a nice friendly game of poker. Then booze got involved.

And that was when you made the worst decision of your life thus far (as surely you would someday find a way to embarrass yourself more), and when Dean suggested upping the stakes, you asked him what he was suggesting. And the four of you ended up playing a good ol’ game of Strip Poker.

Sam, the ass he was hadn’t lost a single hand yet, and grinning all the way through, Dean shirtless and shoeless, just as cocky as Sam. You had your both your bra and panties left, only because you had made them flip a coin on weather or not your thigh holster counted as clothing. And Cas, well if Cas lost another hand the game was over. Sam hadn’t lost a hand, he would win, Cas would lose and you could go to bed and try not to commit any more blasphemy tonight as you saw Cas from the corner of your eye again.

Sure the boys we more than casually watching you. They’d both seen you in less, you lived out of a car and various motel rooms. There was an open invitation to Dean’s bed, not that you’d taken it in nearly a year. Your relationship with Sam was platonic, the less was when you all had 10 minutes to get out of a hotel, and tonight, he was human, drunk, and wiping the floor with you at poker, any less than his bit of ogling and you’d be disappointed (and a little hurt).

Of course, though it wasn’t the Winchesters you wanted. You wanted the Angel. Castiel, worse than you at poker while fully sober, oblivious or naive, or unwilling to admit to so many things. Not just the filth the three of you would talk about sometimes, or the basic human decency of not just bringing up sensitive subjects with people. Once he accidentally took a swig of your coffee and poured it down the sink, you were just sitting there reading some sort of something for research, he grabbed the cup, took a sip, stood up poured it out and spit the mouthful he had down the drain, apparently because it was freezing cold and tasted like pain. “I like it strong.” His response; “That’s causing some sort of organ damage.”

And yet through it all, you wanted him, the sinful, blasphemous things you would do to him, wanted him to do to you. And this game, this game wasn’t helping, he’d lose a hand, lose another article of his clothing, another hand delt and he’d twist his body, fanning the cards, “What should I do?” you have half a mind to just shove him onto his back, grind down and ride him right there on the shitty ancient motel bed you were all on.

You didn’t, you grumbled something you knew would make a shit hand and wondered if you’d overdose if you took one of your sleeping pills after the beer you’d drank. You needed away from Cas. The faster the better.

He lost the hand. You pulled your jeans and tank top back on layering your shirt and jacket on your arm, grabbing your holster and room key, you stopped once the door was opened, there was a knot in your stomach a restlessness to your bones “Dean?” You said the word before you realized what you were doing, about to ask for.

You couldn’t use a friend like that, couldn’t do that, it was wrong, somehow that you could quite place the perfect word. “Yea, [Y/N]?”

What to say now, “I,” he’s probably done similar to you, “ah,” he’s also two years away from complete liver failure, his example shouldn’t be followed, “I’m taking a half pill,” you turned around, he was shuffling the cards back together, Cas was fucking around with his shirt buttons, “I’ll go get a second key so you don’t have an excuse to leave me here in the morning.” 

The hotel was two stories and apparently only had single-bedded rooms, having your own room was a rarity, “Do you have spare keys I’m room 213?” You asked the guy in the little office.

“Depends, who’s it going to?”

“My brothers, the two guys I checked in with, I’ve got sleeping pills, don’t want them to have to yell through the door at 7 am waking up the other guests.” You told him, they were family at this point, but they found you after your shop was burnt to the ground, and they kept you after they found out you knew about the ‘monsters’ they hunted, and could kill them, kill them well. That was six or seven years ago.

Too you slight dismay the man grabbed a key from a box on his desk and gave it to you. It seemed that the locks at this place were all the same. That killed you plan to drug yourself to sleep. You took the key, and started to leave. “You got a permit for those.”

Confused until you  realized you were carrying three knifes and two pistols in open view, “Yea somewhere in my wallet.”

You left, the night was cool, it was probably past midnight, you walked up the rusty looking stairs and along the platform, the night was clear.  210 you knocked, “Dean? Sam?”

Sam opened the door, “Here’s another key, I think every locks the same here, so, ya know, sleep safe.”

“Thanks, you’ll be okay alone?”

You jingled the holster and smiled, “Damn well better be.”

“Night.”

“Night.”

You walked past 213 to the end off the walkway, “How’d ya mange this [Y/N]?’ You asked yourself leaning on the railing looking at the parking lot. The other cars, the other lives, new or run down cars, a rusty truck, as rental van and a U-Haul. The Impala stood out like a sore thumb. The four of you stood out life a sore thumb. You stood out like a sore thumb. You had so much before, you weren't normal, you sold Herbal Cures worked  some of what you now called minor cases if someone came to you, unspoken in your town that that was your your family did. You had a fiancé, the same man you took to prom, the man who held you in the hospital after the final moments of both your parents, the man who was a pallbearer at their funerals. He burnt with the shop, in the wreckage you would find he’d been cheating on you  since your mom had gotten sick. You had stuck with the boys because they were something and they let you. You had nothing left. You wondered about the other lives you were looking at. How did they get here.

You sighed and looked at the stars, squinting at the moon, finding the half point, moving three bright stars up and two right, two close bright stars, the ones you’d decided to be your parents, still shining brightly in the dark. You walked back to your room, unlocked it, walked in, locked it, put your jacket and shirt on the table, toeing off your shoes. You took the salt pistol and 10” serrated fixed-blade from your hoister, put them under the pillow

The hoister went in the bathroom, the bathroom door was closed, you had the bed sheets pulled back when there was a knock, and a voice, “[Y/N], it’s Cas.”

The hell did he want? Accuse you of making him lose? Ask something that could have waited until morning? He was too calm for there to be something wrong, you opened the door, standing in the doorway. 

He might have sounded calm, but something was wrong, you could nearly feel it in the air. Something had him worked up, puffed up chest and hunched shoulders, set jaw, blown pupils.

“What’s wro-.” He grabbed the front of your shirt and started walking you backwards in the room. Kicking the door closed as he got in the musty smelling room, he talked again, voice low, gravely, there was no joking here.

“I’m done.” He started, now you were just a scarred as you were confused, “I can’t listen to you anymore, do you know how hard it is to not get a boner when all I can hear are the filthy things your imagination comes up with?” your back hit the wall, one of his hands landing on the wall next to you head, the other landing between your body and left arm, trapping you, “And half naked at that.” 

Castiel managed to get closer, kicking your knees apart, interwinding them flush against each other, his belt buckle was digging into your skin, “Do you have any idea the amount of will it took to not fuck you into that mattress?” He growled out, rolling hips against you. You could feel his erection, solid, straining against the heavy fabric of his pants.

“I,” You what? Didn’t occupy your free time with thoughts of him? “I didn’t think you could hear that.”

“Oh, I could, I could hear it all. Just how many questionable stains do you want in that poor car?” He asked you, still grinding down onto you. He wasn’t going to lecture you, wasn’t angry. No, he wanted you as well.

You pulled your arms up to his neck looping them around, pushing your entire body against his solid frame like a snake sizing up its next meal, twisting your fingers into his too-soft-and-just-long-enough-for-a-good-hold hair, “More than it’s already got.” You breathed out before pressing your lips to his. 

He kissed back, asking for entrance after a moment by nibbling on your bottom lip, Your tongues dances as you felt him toe off his shoes shrugging off his coat and jacket letting them pool in the tripping hazard the was the floor. He pulled back just enough to talk in a low, deep whisper, “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

You managed to breathe out a yes before he started to take nibbles at the sensitive skin of your neck, hand reaching up behind you under your shirt and pinching the clasp of your bra, moving back to cup your breast. You leaned your head back and  ground against his knee, “Cas?” His name was little more than a breath, “This is too many clothes.” You told him and you dropped an arm to go for the buttons of his shirt.

Castiel found a spot on your neck he liked, sucking at it as you pulled each button undone, for a split second he wondered how you got so good at getting the stupid things. He pulled back from your neck, cold air hitting the damp spot he’d just marked making you shudder. He tugged at the hem of your shirt and you lifted your arms, your shirt went somewhere, your bra hung on your elbows for a moment until you threw it somewhere else tugging at his shirt half tucked and undone, once free you pushed it over his shoulders, “Fuck,” you said before reaching for his belt buckle, hand on the cool metal you looked at him, “You want this?”

“For so long.”

His belt was undone, the button unbuttoned, fly shoved down. You shoved his pants far enough that they could finish falling to the floor with the rest of his clothes.

His hand reached out for your own belt. Once your jeans were gone he wrapped his arms around you, catching your lips again, swinging you from the tangle of clothes and letting the backs of your legs hit the bed.

“Cas,” You asked looking up at him, he was beautiful, you let yourself reach out to palm his chest, “I want you.”

He nodded, “I know, how, how would you like to have me then?” His hand was on your waist, the other had it’s thumb hooked in your panties.

You breathed in, thinking about until now was fine, but now, saying it out loud was seemingly hard, “I want, just fuck me into that bed ‘til I can’t walk.

Your underwear was gone, his boxer followed and as guided you down onto you back to the slightly uncomfortable bed. And he was big. Can that fit big. Was between your legs, ghosting his fingers over your upper thighs, he leant down face close enough to feel his body heat on your skin, lightly connecting with your lips again before moving across your jawline, up to nip at your you earlobe, whispering something in a language you didn’t know. Following a path down, feather-light with exception to a few spots where he stopped to nip and bite and suck at, never occurring to you about what you would do tomorrow about them. Your nails were digging into his shoulder and you tried to roll your hips against him, his body was annoyingly too far, “Cas,  would you just touch me.”

He lifted his head to look at you, grinning, “I’m fairly certain I was.”

Dick. “Here Cas.” You told him pulling the hand that was resting on your hip closer to you core, shifting your thighs a bit further apart, bucking up against his rough fingers.

“Excited are we?” He asked teasingly, dipping a single digit into the hot wetness you had offered, picking up lubrication to easily swirl his finger around your clit.

You weren’t proud of the noise that escaped your throat. Castiel however was spurred on by it repeating the motion again, and again as he returned to peppering kisses down your body, cupping and sucking at you hip bones  for a good half minute. “Are,” he started, finally sounding unsure of what he was doing finally, “are you ready to-”

“Yes Cas.” You said strongly before you breathed out a second yes. You were ready for him.  For this. Cas shuffled forward, leaning down, balanced on one forearm with his other hand on a hip. Blue eyes boring into you, white teeth glinting in his grin. He pressed his lips down to yours as his hand left your hip. He guided his cock-head to your entrance, your nails were digging into his shoulder with one hand and his mid back with the other as he slowly pushed inside of you. His head dropped to the crook of your neck, his breath hot on your skin as he groaned, and panted interchangeably, occasionally adding your name in as he stretched and filled you to what you would have sworn was beyond possible. Once hips hips finally hit you, bottoming out he just breathed in ragged breaths for a few moments.

He lifted his head, seeing marks already appearing on your skin and pupils blown, leaving each other eyes dark reflective abyss’. You both breathed in, chests hitting each other as you rolled your hips. He drew out halfway, falling back in, “You’re so hot, and tight, and fuck.” He growled out as you pulled your feet you to his lower back, digging in the heels just slightly. Cas moved faster and harder with each thrust into you, the hand he had used to guild himself lifted to yours and intertwined the fingers as you stretched your arms against the mattress and rocked your hips with his, begging him to for more. He pulled out further on each thrust outwards, pounding back in slightly different each time until he found the combination that left you with only breathy attempts to say his name and nails short as there were, leaving bright indents.

He continued pulling you quickly to the edge of orgasmic bliss, a pattern of movements that left a coil in your stomach and every piece of skin he touched tingling with an electric current. As you were teetering at the edge you could tell he was at the edge with you,  hips occasionally faltering, chest heaving. When you rolled your hips again your clit brushed against his pelvis, as you tumbled over the edge, to a pit of pure, unadulterated pleasure you pulled him with. Your legs were locked around Cas’ waist as you all but screamed his name, hand on his back pulling him to your chest, growling your name as his hips bucked a few final times, both breathing raggedly, as your pulsing muscle milked him, filling you with seed. Cas managed to hold himself up through his recovery, face in your neck. As you pulled through to the other side of the aftermath of your orgasm you let your legs drop back to the mattress your arm moving up his back to curl in his hair loosely rubbing at the back of his scalp.

Both of you breathing normally he pulled himself from being flush to your front and pulled you under the motel bed blankets. You rolled your back to him pushing one arm under the pillow to get a loose grip on the knife.

And he wasn’t moving, no he was, it just was closer to you. You didn’t exactly do the whole ‘cuddle to sleep’ thing. Or the ‘stay the night’ thing, but Castiel was pulling your back to his chest, you shuffled back from him, he pulled you back, “Cas?”

“Yes?”

“You should know by now, I don’t do this.”You told him, he was still holding you.

“Don’t do what? Let someone hold you when you’re not up against a wall.”

Put like that it sounded terrible, “Yes, that implies,  _ makes _ feelings. There isn’t room for feelings in our lives.”

“I don’t think this is about hunting,” he started, you could feel his voice on your ear, “This is about what Matt did to you.” He waited a moment, you said nothing, “You gave him your heart, and when times get tough he put it aside.” His hand found yours again twisting them together, “[Y/N], everything’s already tough and I’m not going anywhere.”

“Cas, I do-.”

“Listen to me, I’m not leaving you, I doubt there’s another woman even close to you in beauty; body and mind. I’m just asking you try, I don’t need your heart, I’m not demanding you give it to me, just trust me not to hurt you.”

You didn’t say anything out loud. You untensed, and rolled to your other side, back to the door. Without a word it was understood. You were giving him your trust, trust to keep watch, trust to keep you safe.

~~~

In the morning, when you woke up and saw him watching you, staring really, you still didn’t talk about it. You pressed your lips to his, showered and shuffled through your clothes. THere were three dark blue-purple spots on your neck. Thankfully they were low enough you could hide them with a flannel- shirt collar. He watched from the edge of the bed as you pulled on your jeans, pushing the buck knife on the right side, you didn’t need the full arsenal for breakfast, or shouldn’t. Buttoning up the flannel and pulling on your coat jacket, double checking your carry permits matched the state you were heading too.

In the car, he sat closer to you than usual, as you ate in the dinner, discussing what you were headed to and something resembling a plan, you let your hand drop to fold with his as your legs rested on each other. Something that would soon become habit nearly everywhere.

 


End file.
